The Wolf on the Wall
by HerenyaHope
Summary: Based off of my other Solavellan fic, His Homecoming, can be read alone. Some pains you slowly grow accustomed to over time, some pains you keep bottled up. The worst pains are the ones you try to keep others from seeing. But it's hard when there are memories painted on the walls. Mentions of Solavellan, depression, abandonment, single parents, ect


"We've received word back from Knight-Captain Rylen," Cullen said as he looked down at the letter in his hand.

"Good, what is their condition?" asked Nimwen.

"The supplies sent to Griffon Wing managed to tide the men over while work to clear the cave in continued. The Knight-Captain says that the collapse has been cleared, and in a few days the well will be completely cleaned and they'll be they have water again."

"Thank you, Commander," Nimwen replied. The Inquisitor stared down at the war table she and her advisors were gathered around. Little markers littered the map of Thedas, like a pieces in a game of chess. They would move, be switched, eventually they'd be removed: the end of a mission. But there would always be another to take its place, and another, and another. The game would never end. Her eyes looked to the tan collared stretch of map depicting the Western Approach. Placed in the corner was a black marker by a tiny model fortress. She pinched the marker between her nimble fingers and removed it. "Captain Rylen seems to always have his hands full," the mage remarked, sympathetic to the man assigned to arguably the least pleasant place the Inquisition could send its soldiers.

"True, but for all its trouble, Griffon Wing Keep provides the Inquisition with a stronghold in the far west of Orlais. For that, I think we can accommodate a cave in or two," Josephine said.

Nimwen hummed in agreement. She set the marker down on the end of the table, where the rest laid. "Harding, did you ever get a response from your agent in Val Royeaux?"

"I did. The report was sent to your quarters, your Worship," the dwarf replied.

Fantastic. Yet another report to add to the ever constant pile of paperwork that resided on Nimwen's desk. She resisted the urge to groan. "Very well, thank you, Harding." Nimwen still had to train herself not to add the title of 'Scout' before the dwarf woman's name. Since Leliana, or _Divine Victoria_ , Nimwen supposed, left for her new position, Harding had taken up the mantle of the Inquisition's Spymaster rather well. Though Nimwen knew Harding would have preferred her past as head Scout, the elf could think of nobody more qualified to fill the position Leliana left. She pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear and thought about getting it trimmed. Then, she finally uttered those sweet words. "I believe that concludes today's meeting," she said, relishing the sound. "You are dismissed."

The three advisors bowed and after they collected their things, the group departed from the War Room. Nimwen was the last to leave. She waved good-bye to Josephine, who'd returned to her desk, and returned the Antivan's smile. After the elf left the Ambassador's office though, her smile fell and a wash of fatigue came over her. After three years in her role as Inquisitor, she'd settled into the role well enough. More than she would have thought she would. Meetings and strategy were now mundane, giving orders natural, nobles no more intimidating than servants. Inquisitor Lavellan no longer sounded so foreign to her. Yet the work remained ever taxing. She nodded to the guards standing watch by the throne as she went into her private chambers. She glanced at her throne, both glorious and intimidating. In a week's time she would be sitting on it, and all day receive those who wished an audience with her, be they noble or peasant, friend or rival; and that was before she even began to deal with those who were misfortunate enough to find their way into Skyhold's dungeon. It was a tedious endeavour, but she had been the one who insisted that the Inquisition be a place where all can come to voice their worries, or plead for help when none was available. Tedious though it may be, it was her duty.

Once in the hallway of her private chambers, some of her fatigue started to fade, but not all. Instead of heading up the stairs that led to her bedroom, she turned left down the small staircase that went to another room. Before she opened the door, Nimwen tried to shake the exhaustion from her frame, and made herself smile like she _didn't_ have the weight of the world on her shoulders. She opened the door and walked inside. " _Da'len_ , are you awake?" she asked cheerfully. Her eyes searched for the room's occupant, but found it empty. She frowned. "Lori?" Nimwen called as she looked around the bedroom. She stepped around the toys littering the floor, her eyes looking. "Lori, are you in here?" The blankets on the plush bed were rumpled into a pile on the bed. Nimwen pulled them away and found them empty. "Lori?" Panic had not set in, just a mild thrum of suspicion that awaited further stimuli. Lori was supposed to be taking her afternoon nap. Nimwen had been positive that Lori had truly fallen asleep before she left for her meeting. Getting the toddler to go to sleep was no simple feat, but once asleep the little girl slept like the dead. But her girl was clever, and if she had actually faked her slumber, Nimwen could only guess where she could be.

Nimwen sighed walked out of the room. She was worried about not knowing where her daughter was, but she had no genuine fear of her being out of her sight. Everyone in Skyhold knew the face of Lorien Lavellan, and the child was constantly surrounded by people duty-bound to keep her safe. There were no strangers to her in Skyhold.

Nimwen left her quarters and approached one of the guards. She noticed their posture straighten ever so subtly when they saw her coming. "Have you seen Lori?" she asked.

"No, your Worship, we haven't seen Lady Lorien since the two of you came down for breakfast," the left guard responded.

Nimwen nodded. "Very well, keep an eye out for her, and if you spot her, take her to Lady Montilyet."

"Yes, Inquisitor."

Nimwen started down the Great Hall, peeking between nobles and servants for a glimpse of the elven girl. To nobles flittering for her attention, she gave a small wave and smile, a gesture that said she acknowledged their existence, but also told them she was not going to stop for a conversation. It was a gesture she's mastered over the past three years. She could only imagine what her old self would have thought if she could see how well her future self played the human's Game.

Luck came when a servant told Nimwen he believed he saw Lori wandering towards the library tower. The mage thanked him and turned to the door that led to the tower. She felt a pang in her chest when she passed by the fire and the table empty. Varric had left for Kirkwall little over a year ago, or was it two? Nimwen couldn't tell anymore. The corner felt empty without the dwarf there. He was as much a fixture there as the stones lining the fireplace. Sometimes Nimwen would pass by it and wonder where Varric had wondered off to, perhaps the tavern, and then she remembered that he was a thousand miles away.

She shook her head and opened the door. Perhaps Lori had gone upstairs to visit with Dorian? The girl adored her Uncle, and the Tevinter had no qualms entertaining both her and his own son. Her steps echoed off the stone as she entered the rotunda. She kept her head down and was ready to go immediately for the staircase, as she had taught herself to do to avoid looking at the place.

There was a soft humming.

In that instance Nimwen broke both of her rules. She stopped her walk and looked up. Her eyes found the source, then widened.

Sat cross-legged on the ground, with bed-tangled hair and her nightgown still on, was Lori. The girl had her head tilted all the way back as she stared up at the mural painted walls. She was humming a nonsensical tune, perhaps she made it up, or perhaps it was a song Nimwen didn't know.

The mage watched, frozen, as Lori clambered to her feet. Her long, tangled hair fell in her face and made her look like a blonde sheepdog. Tiny hands shoved the hair away, and then the toddler skipped up to the wall. She patted a painted wolf with her palms, still humming.

"Lori?" Nimwen managed to keep her voice calm.

The toddler turned around. "Mama," she grinned.

"What are you doing?" Nimwen asked as she walked towards her daughter.

"Playin'," Lori replied.

"You're supposed to be napping," Nimwen said as she knelt in front of Lori.

The little girl looked down at the ground, hands behind her back. "Not sleepy," she mumbled.

"What are you doing in here?"

The question made Lori's eyes, light up. "Pretty!" She twirled, arms outstretched, in a gesture to the room.

"They are very pretty," Nimwen replied, keeping her face straight. She was doing her best not to look at any of the walls. "But come now, _da'len_ , let's get you dressed and then-"

"Daddy make them."

Nimwen felt her whole body tense. "What?"

"Someone said my daddy make these," Lori explained, pointing to the murals. "That true, mama?" She looked up at the older elf, her eyes shining with innocent curiosity. They were the same pale blue that collared Nimwen's eyes, and one would assume their roundness was Nimwen's doing as well. But Nimwen could see the signs. In a few years time, the roundness would fade, and age would give them the shape of another.

"Yes, _da'len_ , your daddy did paint those."

If Lori had heard the slight catch in Nimwen's voice, she did not understand the reason behind it. "They so pretty," the child cheered. She left her mother and skipped back to the wolf. "I like the wolfs," she giggled. She stroked the painting as if it were real fur. "He a cute _fen_. He a _fen_ , right mama?"

"He is, very good, sweetie." Nimwen had taught her the word for wolf only a week ago. It was good that Lori was retaining her elvish when only her mother spoke it to her.

"Mama?"

Nimwen felt a finger tap her knee and she looked down. "Yes, _da'len_?"

"Where my daddy?"

Behind her smile, Nimwen wanted to scream. "I don't know where he is."

"Why?"

' _Because he left without a goodbye.'_ "I just don't."

"Why he leave?"

' _I wish I knew.'_ "He had something he needed to do."

"What?"

' _Something he deemed more important than me, than you.'_ "Something important."

"You miss him?"

' _Please stop,'_ Nimwen wanted to say. An emptiness she'd work so long to fill was opening again. Loneliness, like a poison, bubbled up. "Yes, I miss him very much."

"Mama why you cry?"

Nimwen blinked. She hadn't realized she'd been crying until she felt a small hand touch her cheek, where a tear had fallen. "O-oh _ir abelas, da'len_ , I hadn't even noticed." Even as she chuckled Nimwen could feel more tears escape her eyes.

"I make you sad?"

"No, no, Lori you didn't," Nimwen assured her as she wiped her eyes. Her voice was choked, struggling between the sadness she felt and the contentment she wanted Lori to believe. "You _never_ make me sad." Nimwen put her hand on Lori's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "You make me so very happy, Lori. I just have to look at you and my whole day becomes wonderful."

"Love you, mama."

"I love you too."

"Daddy love me?"

The worry in Lori's face made Nimwen's throat tighten. "Of course he does." Nimwen gathered her daughter into her arms and pulled her into her lap. "Daddy loves you very much."

"But why he no here?" Lori asked. Her tiny fists clutched at Nimwen's robe.

"It's...complicated, sweetie." Nimwen stroked Lori's hair, still fuzzy and tangled. "Your daddy had things he needed to do, and it made him very sad that he had to go." That was true, right? Nimwen remembered the pain in his eyes, the strain in his voice. Leaving her hurt him just as much as it hurt her. But why? _Why_ couldn't he just tell her, let her help? Did he not trust her?

"He miss us?"

"I'm sure he misses you and me very much." _'If he even knows about you.'_ Nimwen felt two small arms wrap around her neck.

"I sorry you sad," Lori said.

Nimwen let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, baby girl."

The girl had her cheek pressed to Nimwen's, and so she did not see the pained look that befell her mother.

Nimwen held Lori closer. This tiny being, so small, so seemingly fragile, was her anchor, her reason to keep going. Lori's hair tickled her skin, and the smell of it brought her comfort. "Say, Lori," Nimwen said with strength in her voice again. "Why don't we get you dressed, and then let's go on a walk?"

She heard Lori gasp and the child parted to look her mother in the eye. "We go creek?"

"The water's probably still cold, but I'm sure we can stick our feet in."

"Bring cakes?"

The utter excitement in her daughter's voice made Nimwen grin. "Sure, we can see if Miss Donatien has some cake or pie for us."

"Yay, yay, yay!" Lori bounced up and down as she clapped her hands. "Miss Dona make cake!"

"Hold on there, _da'len_." Chuckling, Nimwen took hold of Lori before the girl could sprint off. "You need to get dressed first. You can't go into the mountains in just your nightgown." Nimwen scooped the toddler into her arms and set her on her hip. "First clothes, then comb, then cake."

"Thank you, mama!" Lori squealed.

Nimwen shook her head with amusement as she carried Lori out of the rotunda. She turned and used one hand to grab the door handle.

"You best, mama."

Nimwen looked up at the painted walls. Her heart ached with an unseen bruise. "Thank you, _da'len_." She shoved her emotions back into their cage, and shut the door.


End file.
